One of the projects I once researched for the Great State of Illinois was that of “food insecurity”.

“Food insecurity,” in a nutshell, means long periods of not knowing what you’ll have to eat. Whether you’ll have anything to eat. When you might have something to eat.

It can last for years, even lifetimes.

The thing I remember most was a study about mothers in households that suffered from food insecurity, and how they behaved around mealtimes. You see, they scraped together enough to feed their family. Meals usually were very high in low-cost, high-calorie foods like rice and noodles. If there was meat, it usually went to their partner and then was divided among the kids.

The moms in the homes that were studied rarely ate with the rest of the family. Instead, they waited. Then they ate what was left, and they rarely got to have anything beyond the rice or other high-calorie foods.

For years, I’ve imagined these women. Carefully shopping. Cooking. Getting everybody to the table. Making sure none of the people they love go hungry if they can help it.

And then waiting to see whether there is anything left.

I’m wondering whether many of us deal with other things in this way.

Emotional support, perhaps?

Are we like those women, wondering whether there will be enough, or when it will show up, or what will be there?

There we are. Caring for everyone. Making sure the kids’ owies are kissed. Feeding. Tucking. Reassuring.

And then, if there is anything left, hungrily feeding upon it until it’s gone. Taking anything, any little scrap, leaving not so much as a crumb unlicked from the emotional plate.

No concern about quality or balance, just wanting to feel full.

What would happen if we sat down at the table, put our napkins on our laps, and expected our share?

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